


Party in the Back

by embroiderama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Ash, whiskey, the pool table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party in the Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is a late holiday request ficlet for [](http://someoftheday.livejournal.com/profile)[**someoftheday**](http://someoftheday.livejournal.com/). I'm not sure if it's quite what you wanted, but I tried! Thank you to [](http://pheebs1.livejournal.com/profile)[**pheebs1**](http://pheebs1.livejournal.com/) for taking a look at it.

Ash slumped down, sprawled across the pool table, his head against the corner pocket. Hair dangling down the side of the table, he stared up at the ceiling. "When did this place start spinnin'? Maybe I should tell Ellen," he slurred.

"Nah," Dean answered from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the base of the table. "S'just an illusion"

"Tricky." Ash closed his eyes, only to open them a moment later when he felt light pressure tugging at his scalp. "What the hell's zat?"

The tugging stopped. "Sorry, dude," Dean slurred.

"S'okay." Ash went back to observing the undulating light behind his eyelids. He heard the slosh of liquid in a bottle as Dean drank more whiskey, and then he felt it again--light, painless pressure pulling at his hair. Rhythmic, almost like--

Ash heaved himself up far enough to flip over on the table, ignoring the brief yank when his hair caught as he turned. Turned to see Dean Winchester with one palm flat against the side of the table where Ash's hair used to be and his other hand over the crotch of his jeans.

"Whaaat the _hell?_"

"Sorry." Dean smirked lazily as he looked up at Ash, the side of his head resting against the table. "Just love your hair, man. My fingers--" Dean reached up toward Ash's head. "My fingers like to touch it."

"Man, you are even more fucked up right now than I am."

"Why d'you say that?" Dean pouted drunkenly. "Just 'cause I like your hair?"

"Well." Ash smoothed his hand over his head. "Guess I can't blame you for that."

Dean took another swig of whiskey and turned his grin on Ash again, heat now burning through the haze of alcohol. "Iwannacmnyrhr."

"You wanna wah?" Ash leaned down over the table to hear better, sending his hair spilling down towards Dean again.

Dean reached his hand out to thread his fingers through the fall of dirty blonde hair. "I wanna come, dude, in your fuckin' hair." He stroked the hair, sandwiching it between his palms. "I wanna feel it on my balls."

"Whoa." Ash grinned widely at the thought of his hair wrapped around whatever Dean was hiding in those well-worn jeans.

"Can I?" Dean wove his fingers through Ash's hair. "Please?"

"Depends, man. Do I get a blow job out of it?"

"Suuure!" Dean over-enunciated, scrunching his face up and dragging the vowel out.

"Sweet." Ash rolled off the side of the pool table and landed next to Dean. He watched as Dean unzipped and pulled his cock out, clenching it in one wide palm. Ash leaned over to put his hair closer to Dean, and he felt Dean's free hand come out to pet his hair while Dean started to jerk himself off.

"Feels goooood," Dean slurred. His strokes started to speed up but then they slowed down too soon, became lighter, the tight rhythm tapering off into random, meandering pets. "Mmmmm," Dean hummed sleepily. The petting stopped with Dean's hand still on the back of Ash's head, and after a moment Ash looked up to see Dean fast asleep, with one hand still on his dry, limp cock.

"Damn," Ash murmured to himself. "Guess I'm gonna have to wait on that blow job."


End file.
